JD Dabbles
by JayBee-Bug
Summary: Ch 4: Daniel is appraised by the group. Or rather, a part of Daniel is.
1. Dancin' like a monkey!

**Title**: JD Dabbles

**Author**: JayBee-Bug (jaybee_bug@yahoo.com)

**Summary**: Random Jack/Daniel scenes I wrote last year. At the time, I thought they were funny, and maybe you'll think so too. Possible slash undertones. 

**A/N**: Mara Greengrass has several 'drabbles' posted and I credit her with the idea of drabbles. Her work is excellent, by the way. ;o) 

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The second he opened the door, the dull murmur of music he had heard from the driveway turned into a roaring tidal wave, the force nearly physically pushing him back. It took him a moment to recover, and when he did, it took him much longer to register that the man dancing around like a lunatic in his underwear and waving his chop-sticks doing air-drumming, hollering along with the music in his off-key baritone, was actually Jack. It didn't take Jack quite so long to respond, though, and by the time Daniel had come to his senses, Jack had tripped over the couch cushions and make a flying leap to his speaker-system, smacking the off-switch.

"Daniel!" he yelled, for apparently no reason. Well, Daniel was sure he had his reasons, it's just he rarely cared to let him in on them.

"Jack!" he shot back automatically in defense. After that, Jack just stared at him expectantly, a chop-stick still dangling from his left hand.

"Can I help you?" he asked, placing heavy emphasis on the sentence. Daniel perked up as he remembered,

"Oh! Um, sorry. I was just-- I wasn't sure if you'd be here, I was dropping by on my way home . . . wanted to go over something with you before tomorrow's meeting . . . ah. Maybe I should-- I'll come back later," he rambled, backing up and closing the door.

"Daniel," he repeated, except with a completely separate emphasis this time, making it more amicable. Daniel paused in the doorway.

"Yeah?"

"I got some Chinese food. You had dinner yet?"

The younger man puckered his lips out in thought, familiar wrinkles appearing on his brow.

"No. . ." he admitted bluntly, too distracted to come up with a valid excuse.

Jack smirked.

"Thought so. It's nine o' clock, for Pete's sake, Danny. What is it you scientists operate on? Caffeine?"

"Um . . . that and those sugar doughnuts they bring in the morning," Daniel admitted again, not understanding how he ended up being lectured on not eating dinner by a man who had been dancing around in his living room. In his underwear.

"Why don't you come in and shut the door then before the neighbors see me like this and I'll feed you," Jack suggested in his most diplomatic tone. A rare thing to hear from Jack, indeed. Dazed, Daniel agreed.

"Oh. Ok . . ."

He stepped inside and shut the door. Jack nodded towards the kitchen.

"Food's in there. I've got some drinks in the garage."

He stuck the chop-stick into the pencil-cup sitting on his speaker and added,

"Why don't you let me slip into something . . ." He glanced down at himself,

". . . more."

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	2. Anatomically Correct Cornhusk Dolls

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"Well, using anatomically correct cornhusk dolls, I'm pretty sure I just taught one of the natives the novel idea of anal sex."

Daniel choked on the drink he was in mid-sip of, and took a few minutes to recover.

"Jack!" he scolded as soon as he found breath,

"What?" he replied defensively. "I was educating them. He wanted tips."

Daniel was spluttering at him, too flustered and annoyed to form coherent sentences;

"Jack, you can't just go around-- you'll-- their culture, you just casually mess with it, and--"

"It's not like they wouldn't have eventually figured it out on their own. They seem a very...curious race when it comes to . . . recreational activities."

Daniel took a thoughtful sip and seemed to consider this. Jack gave a small smile, accepting his victory in the argument.

"Good point."

A beat, and Daniel added on in a thoughtful, conversational tone,

"They'll probably end up calling it the O'Neill position, now, though."

This time it was Jack's turn to choke in his drink. Daniel couldn't help but snigger.

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	3. Unsuspecting Victim

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His pillow smelled like dirt and hay, and it reminded him of the hayhouse for the horses he visited once when he had visited his grandparent's house as a boy. He had loved it there for some reason, the private little building built especially for the storage of horse feed. Somehow he felt more safe and comfortable there among the tall bales of tied hay and the barrels of dry feed than anywhere else at that point in his life.

Daniel smiled in his sleep, nose mooshed not-so-gracefully against his pillow.

"Aaaw," Jack murmured, as he loomed over his current bunkmate. Whispering, he commented,

"Will you look at that. He must be having a good dream."

Hardly more than a bit of blond hair poking out of the twisted, messed-up sleeping bag was visible of his dozing companion. Daniel shifted a little and sunk deeper into his pillow with a tiny sigh.

"So damn innocent when he's sleeping. He looks angelic," Jack murmured sappily. An evil grin spread across his still-yet-to-be-shaved features.

"Entirely unaware of the misfortune about to befall him . . ."

Shifting so he slid all the way out of his own sleeping bag, Jack got on his hands and knees and leaned in way close to Daniel, leering over him like a cat cornering a canary.

"Sweet little Danny-boy," he murmured gently in his ear in a sing-song tone. Daniel shifted a little, and gave a sleep-mumble, but didn't wake. Jack continued in his gentle purr,

"Danny . . . it's time to wake up . . ."

Daniel sniffled, but beyond that, did not stir. Jack got that grin again.

"Well. Now he can't say I didn't try to wake him the easy way," he concluded in a normal voice. And proceeded to jump on top of Daniel like he was tackling a quarterback. The younger man gave a sudden "Oooof!" as the two-hundred-something-pound Colonel pounced on him. His eyes snapped open and he literally saw stars, red and purple lights spinning and twisting in front of him, and he realized he wasn't breathing. Jack had completely winded him.

Just barely recognizing the lunatic on top of him as his bunkmate, Daniel swore internally that he'd scream his head off at Jack the moment he got his breath back.

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	4. BiteSized

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"Very nice. I'd give it a ten out of ten. What do you say, Carter?"

"Ten, definitely."

"It's so bronzed. I don't know how you do that. I can never keep a convincing tan there."

"I think Abydos has permanently marked him."

"Well talk about the perfect legacy. Very sculpted, too. It's good."

"Yeah, I have to agree with that sculpted thing, he's right."

"I mean, maybe not as muscular as Teal'c, but, ah . . . that's not really my type."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I like em' on the smaller side. No offense or anything, Teal'c."

"None taken, ColonelO'Neill."

"It's just I find them cuter that way. Not too small, mind you . . . just the perfect size."

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

"It just fits my perfect parameters-- golden, sculpted, and bite-sized."

"I'm so glad I pass group approval."

Daniel pulled his pants back up.

Then he turned to face his panel of appraisers.

"Next time, you're dealing the cards," Daniel said, pointing to Jack. He shrugged at him helplessly.

"It's not my fault you suck so badly at strip poker, Danny."

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End file.
